Christmas Eve 1987
by clair beaubien
Summary: A parent's greatest achievement may not be what they do, but who they raise... The Winchesters, Pastor Jim, and a Christmas pageant.


Into every Pastor's life, a Christmas pageant will fall. Into a lot of hunters' lives, John Winchester will fall. Into _this_ Pastor-hunter's life, those two sometimes fall at the same time.

I'm always willing to open my home anytime to any hunter, but I'm especially willing to open it to John and his boys. Especially at Christmas.

It was the second Christmas the Winchesters had spent with me. Sam was four and a half, Dean was a month away from turning nine, and John had aged three times more than he should have in the year and a half we'd known each other.

Sammy was the first one out of the car after it pulled to a stop in the driveway, and though he happily shouted, "Hi, Pastor Jim!" even before his feet hit the pavement, he stood and waited for Dean to get out of the car and shut the door and take his hand before racing to get the house, tugging Dean along behind.

John got out of the car much more slowly than his boys. "Thanks for letting us stay over."

"You and the boys are welcome anytime. No thanks necessary. C'mon in, I've got dinner and a shower waiting for you, in whatever order you'd like."

"I appreciate it."

We went inside and found the boys standing in front of my Christmas tree. There were no presents under the tree – it was only Christmas Eve afternoon and I believe in Santa Claus – but I'd turned the lights on before they arrived and Sam's eyes were wide as he gazed up at it.

" _It's so shiny."_

"Wait until you see it tomorrow morning," I told him.

He gave me a quizzical look then crouched down to examine the crèche under the tree. "What's that?" he asked, tugging Dean down to look at it, too.

"That's the manger. You know, Joseph, Mary, and baby Jesus."

"They can have animals inna room with them?"

"No, that's not a room," Dean explained. "It's not a motel. It's a manger. You know, like a garage for animals."

"They're in a garage?" Sammy sounded aghast. "How come they gotta be in a garage?"

"Well, 'cause they don't got anywhere else. You know – remember? Remember the thing last Christmas? When we watched those kids playing shepherds and everything? And then we got candy canes? That was all about why they're at the manger."

"Candy canes?" Sammy's eyes lit up even more and he turned to me. "Is there gonna be candy canes?"

"And cookies and hot chocolate," I told him.

Sam and Dean looked at John, silent but hopeful. I think John would've preferred to turn in early, not sit in a crowded church to watch a Christmas play, but he nodded with a tired sigh.

"If you boys each have a shower and we have dinner first, sure, we can go."

The boys raced upstairs with all the exuberance of their youth and I had say, "Oh, to have even half that much energy." John, however, looked like he didn't want to move another step.

"Everything all right?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Tired. Long days. Just..." he sighed and gestured to the stairs. "Worried about the boys."

"Something going on?"

"Just the usual, which is bad enough, even when nothing is happening. I just worry – " He trailed off, staring up the stairs where the boys had gone. Then he shook his head and hmpf'd an unhappy laugh. "I'm just tired. Some sleep in a real bed, some decent food and a couple days' rest, that's all I need."

I knew that wasn't _all_ he needed, but now wasn't the time to quibble. "C'mon, then. I've got that decent food waiting for you in the kitchen. Let's get started with that."

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The pageant started at six-thirty, so at quarter past six I walked John and the boys through the back hall of the church to the nave where the pageant would take place.

The hall was full of children dressed as angels and shepherds and wise men and a squad of parents keeping them in line.

A woman approached us as we squeezed past the children, Ms. Glinski, the pageant's major domo. She was dressed in a severe white pantsuit with red nails and high heels and enough impatience to try a saint.

"More shepherds, good, let's go. Get your costumes on." She was addressing Dean and Sam, who of course had no clue what she was talking about. "Did you hear me?" she snapped, snapping her fingers at them. "You're late, let's _go_."

Dean looked at John and John looked like fire and I stepped between him and Ms. Glinski. "They're here to watch, Nancy, not participate. C'mon, John, I'll show you and the boys to your seats," and we moved on without bloodshed.

" _Big fish in a little pond,"_ John muttered.

"She's a bit of a perfectionist," I said, but that was an understatement. As far as I knew, not a single thing had yet met with her approval.

The church was full, seats were at a premium, and I showed John and the boys to two folding chairs against the wall right up front. Dean sat in the chair closest to the action and Sammy sat on his father's lap.

In a few minutes the pageant got underway, Ms. Glinski stage-managing the children through it all, from the angel announcing the Good News to Mary, to Joseph's dream, to the necessarily truncated journey to Bethlehem.

A glance at the Winchesters every once in a while showed me that Sammy's attention was fixed closely on the action as he leaned forward with a pinched expression. He looked worried.

As soon as the innkeeper told Joseph and Mary that he had no room for them, Sam was off his father's lap, hurrying toward the beleaguered Holy Family. Dean followed immediately behind, trying quietly to corral his brother, but Sammy walked right up to 'Joseph' and tugged on his sleeve.

"You can stay with us," he said. He turned to Dean like being on his heels was exactly where he expected his big brother to be. "Right, Dean? We got room. Right, Daddy?" he called over to John. "They can stay with us."

There was gentle laughter and scattered " _awwws_ " from the congregation and I saw John let out a deep breath and give a tired smile. "Sure, kiddo. Plenty of room," and Sammy smiled his megawatt smile and nodded enthusiastically and tugged on 'Joseph's' sleeve again.

"Okay? You wanna stay with us?"

'Joseph' looked totally gobsmacked, Ms. Glinski was snapping her fingers and looking apoplectic, and I was going to step in and explain things to Sam as succinctly as possible, but Dean put his arm around his little brother's shoulders and tugged him gently away.

"It's OK, Sammy. They'll find a place. They could stay with us but they gotta go meet the shepherds and the angels, and they wouldn't be able to find them at our place. They'll be okay."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

That satisfied Sammy and they went back to the chair and John's lap and the pageant continued through the angels appearing to the shepherds and the shepherds going to the manger and the Wise Men bringing their gifts.

Ms. Glinski managed to keep shooting daggers at Sammy while simultaneously directing the show. As soon as the pageant was over and the congregants were making their way out of the pews and to the hot chocolate and Kris Kringle cookies in the church hall, she marched over to Sammy who had gotten down from John's lap.

"What do you think you were doing?" she demanded of him, pointing a finger in his bewildered face. "Who said you could ruin my pageant?"

Dean was instantly in front of Sammy, shielding him from her ire, "You stay away from my brother," and I was instantly in front of Ms. Glinski, shielding her from John's. "Look, lady, I don't care who you think you are..." he was saying and I wasn't sure it wouldn't all end in a brawl.

Then, "Excuse me?" there was a woman at the edge of our group, trying to get our attention. She was older, with white hair and bowed shoulders, in a blue winter coat. An older man stood a little ways behind her, in a brown coat, with a cane in his hand. I didn't recognize them as regular parishioners.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, as evenly as if she weren't breaking up a budding firefight. "I just wanted to say that this was the loveliest Nativity Pageant I've ever been to."

She looked down at Sam who was peeking around Dean. "That was very sweet of you to offer Mary and Joseph a room," she told him, then addressed Dean. "And how wonderful that you knew why they couldn't accept."

"They _ruined_ my pageant," Ms. Glinski ground out again.

"They made it _alive,_ " the woman told her. "They made it beautiful. It's a shame you can't see that."

Then she turned to John, "The most important thing about being a parent is the children we raise. You have two wonderful boys. You deserve to be very proud of them."

She turned to the gentleman with her and took his arm and they walked out of the church. Ms. Glinski stared after them, shaking her head. She muttered, "Who asked _you?_ " then threw up her hands. "I'm going home," and she left us, abruptly and wordlessly.

For a moment after her departure we four were silent as well, then Sammy tugged Dean's hand. He whispered, "Can I still have a cookie?"

Dean started to answer, but John spoke first. "You bet you can have a cookie." He swung Sammy up to his shoulder and reached down to tug Dean close. "You both can. You can have all the cookies you want. C'mon, let's go get some."

I followed them down the aisle to the doors and the hallway beyond leading to cookies and hot chocolate. We passed the nearly life-sized manger scene in the foyer and I stopped a moment to look at it. Tomorrow, Christmas, I'd put the Baby Jesus in his bed of straw. Tonight, Mary knelt by the empty manger, St. Joseph behind her, leaning on his staff.

"Cookies, Pastor Jim!" Sammy called to me over John's shoulder. "You gotta get cookies!"

"On my way," I said. I shut off the foyer lights, leaving on only the one stationed over the manger like The Star and followed them to the hall.

The End


End file.
